


Prompt Fills and Random Ficlets

by sunaddicted



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Batfamily Feels, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:42:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8909530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: What it says on the tin ❤





	1. Attention Whore

The night had been almost too quiet, considering it was Gotham: a couple of burglaries and attempted homicides were a piece of cake, if compared to some of the worst nights - those when he needed all of his kids down at work and Batman couldn’t look down even at the Red Hood’s unorthodox methods because he needed the help too much.

So, when he heard the alarm, the Batman was almost happy and he gracefully grappled towards the source of the noise, his body thrumming with life at the prospect of something spicing up the night.

Only, when he spotted the Joker leaning against the door of the jewellery, to wish he had gone to bed earlier than usual.

Of course, the Joker’s eyes zapped at him quickly, almost as if he had a sixth sense that informed him whenever the Batman was near. Letting his lips bow upwards in a oddly enthralling smile - smeared red at the corners of his lips, where the scars twisted his face in a perpetual grin - the Joker straightened up, pale hands smoothing invisible creases in the fitted waistcoat “Batsy! Darling! Sweetheart! Muffincake! What has a girl gotta do to claim your attention?“

“What do you want?” Batman drawled lowly in his throat, wisely deciding to ignore the Joker’s antics. 

The Joker sighed rather dramatically and took a couple of sauntering steps closer to the Dark Knight, splaying a hand over his muscled chest covered in Kevlar “Just to see you. You have been neglecting me, baby” he pouted exaggeratedly, invading the Batman’s personal space with his lithe frame “Do I need to kill someone to make ya understand I need ya?”

The Batman sighed and gently removed the hand splayed on his chest, a thumb caressing in a soothing manner the other’s bony knuckles: since the first time they had kissed (the majority of his brain still claimed it had been because of the compelling need to diffuse some tension), the Joker had become needier and needier, committing petty crimes just to claim his attention “I assure you, I don’t need a lifeless body to be reminded of your presence”

“Then why don’t ya ever take me out?” the Joker frowned, stubbornly bringing his hand again on the Batman’s chest “Brucie baby, ya told me you woulda call me” he whispered, lipstick stained mouth dancing lightly over the profile of that sharp-edged jaw.

At the mention of his real name, the Batman winced “J. be careful”

“But I want ya!”

“Look, I know” Bruce murmured, glancing around to check that no cameras or shadows in the dark alleys were studying them; satisfied that they seemed to be the only ones in that street, he bent down and kissed the Joker’s cheek - and he didn’t loose any time to wonder about when the taste of greasepaint had become weirdly familiar “I’m sorry, I should have called you as I promised. Let’s meet at your flat in a couple of hours, alright? You can have me all for yourself until morning comes”

The Joker looked up, uncanny bright eyes studying the Batman as if they could see beneath the cowl - only after a full minute he gave a jerky nod “But ya better remember I don’t like being ignored” he threatened sweetly before standing on his tiptoes and kissing his Dark Knight. 

Touching the red staining his lips, Bruce watched the Joker jump away towards his flat.


	2. Splintered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of abuse in this one

“Help me” 

“Batsy, please, get me out of here!”

“They’re killing me! They’re killing me!”

“S-stop.. please”

“Not real. Not real. Not real” 

“Batsy..”

The same broken sentences the Joker had been wailing inside of his cell, now were being sobbed against the Batman’s Kevlar-padded chest and they made Bruce’s heart shrink with a poisonous mix of shame and sadness: he had been part of the reason why the Joker had been reduced to a piteously crying creature, even if rather indirectly. 

As he gently buckled the Joker inside of the Batmobile, Bruce promised himself that he’d finally start the investigation on how Arkham was governed; he wasn’t naïve enough to think that the doctors had fucked up only the Joker’s medication because they were understandably afraid of him - the kind of light-heartedness with which they had switched the Joker’s pills, it had belied a long ingrained and twisted system. 

“Make them shut up”

“Shut up!”

“P-p-please”

Bruce put the car into gear and drove towards the mansion, all the while trying to ignore the way the man next to him shook like a leaf and tugged at his faded green hair while silvery teardrops stained his gaunt face, gathering in shallow pools at the edges of his ruined smile. 

As always, he was a man on a mission - that mission being trying to recuperate the Joker on his own without anyone messing with his therapy and meds. 

Alfred had been already warned of the situation but still, he was dutifully waiting for them with his usual impassible mask on his face. The only emotion his bright eyes betrayed was pity as they both helped the Joker to climb down the car “He needs to be monitored for the whole night - God knows how much time it will get to his organism to expel the drugs”

Bruce nodded his agreement and, so easily that it was scaring, he hoisted the Joker up and carried him all the way to one of the beds in the Cave medical bay. 

“Don’t send me back”

“I’ll be good!! I’ll be good.. I promise”

“Batsy, please…”

As Bruce worked on shushing the scared man and trying to calm him as much as possible, Alfred hooked him up to various monitoring machines and a bag of fluids which, considering the Joker’s weight, was desperately needed “I suppose you’ll stay here the whole night” Alfred commented, nodding towards the gauntleted hand that was being squeezed by the Joker. 

He did spend the whole night watching upon his impromptu patient, sighing in relief when finally the Joker fell into a fitful and light sleep. To his shame, Bruce followed suit, pillowing his head on the other’s soft stomach. 

“You’re real”

“Thank you. Please, don’t send me back”

“Batsy, I love you”

Those words, sobbed out in the artificial dawn of the Cave, made Bruce’s heart swell “Sleep - I’ll be here later, I promise”


	3. Winter Holidays

Slowly, the snarky comments and observations about the movie playing on the TV died down and the room was filled by synchronising breathing patterns and some light snoring, due to stuffed noses and some uncomfortable sprawled positions. 

Bruce looked down at his family and smiled: resting in his arms, both tucked under an obscene amount of sweaters, there were Damian and J.; stretched at the foot of the bed, with his face firmly planted in the mattress and mouth slightly open and drooling, there was Tim; Dick’s head was pillowed on the small of Tim’s back, while his feet were up in Damian’s lap, who even in his sleep held on them as if to make sure that his big brother was close; Jason’s head had fallen to rest on Bruce’s shoulder and a frown twisted his mouth whenever Dick moved too much, dislodging the broken foot in the cast that he obstinately kept on the other’s stomach. 

Bruce sighed fondly at the sight that made his heart inflate with love and happiness: in the beginning, when he’d brought J. home and his lover was adjusting to taking regular medication and caring for himself, he would have never thought that he could share such a tender moment with his whole family; it had taken them a lot to reach that point - months of hurt feelings and fighting and tentative truces - but in the end, they had found their equilibrium and the kids too had learned to appreciate and love J.

Damian sneezed in his sleep, prompting the others to stir or let out disgruntled noises.Tim even blearily opened an eye, ate the remaining half of a biscuit that Bruce had no idea where it had been stashed, and went right back to snoring - unbelievable. 

The mobile buzzed quietly on the nightstand and trying not to wake everyone up - J. grumbled when he felt him move and tightened his grip on his shirt - Bruce retrieved it. 

Good afternoon, master Bruce. I trust that everyone is still alive and breathing. - AP

Alfred - Bruce would swear that the older he got, the more cheeky he became. After angling the mobile so that he’d be able to snap a picture of the whole bed - which took some kind of clever thinking and awkward flick of his wrist that made him wish he had given in to Dick’s puppy eyes and bought him a selfie stick - Bruce sent it to Alfred. 

Bruised and tired, but alive. - BW

What did master Jason do? - AP

He challenged Tim in a race on the snowboard, down one of the most difficult tracks. - BW

I suppose it was too much wishing nobody got hurt. Any other injuries? - AP

Dick cracked a rib, flinging himself down a slope with a sleigh. - BW  
It was part of a bet. - BW

Alfred didn’t reply, clearly displeased with the news: they’d all get a good scolding back at home and a lecture about acting like adults instead of children. 

Bruce looked again at the picture and smiled as he made it the background of his mobile: everything had been worth that moment - the fighting, the nightmarish flight, the stupid bets and races that ended up with his kids getting hurt… In a way or another, everything had gifted him that wonderful instant. 

Bruce felt blessed and loved.   



	4. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: I’m Italian and all I know about Thanksgiving it’s what I’ve seen in movies and on tumblr lol

  
Alfred Pennyworth had been living in the US since he was a spry young man but still he hadn’t managed to learn to love Thanksgiving - he actively hated it, instead, and a growing family didn’t bring him any joy: only a murderous headache. 

Starting from Jason almost murdering an old lady at the supermarket for the last turkey in the whole town - or better, the last Richard hadn’t frowned at and that Timothy hadn’t criticised. 

Now the turkey was on the kitchen counter and of course, nobody would leave him alone to prepare it: Damian popped in every other second to ask if he had already though about his vegan alternative (he hadn’t); Jason and Timothy fought about who should disembowel the turkey, while waving knives around in a way that made Alfred count the seconds until one of them got cut; Richard busied himself with making a cranberry sauce from scratch (the same boy who couldn’t be trusted to put on the table something more complicated than a bowl of cereals); Bruce and J….

Alfred stopped his mental ranting to observe the couple quietly sitting at the table. 

Apparently, they had taken upon themselves to make dessert - chip chocolate cookies, if he wasn’t mistaking; they had a recipes book open in front of them, Bruce reading from it while J. mixed the batter in the bowl. 

When flour puffed up to the younger man’s face, making him cough, Bruce gave a deep and genuine laugh that made his whole face light up as, before bending down to kiss a pout away, he brushed the flour away from J.’s cheeks. 

Alfred couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Bruce so happy and at peace with himself and his family: it was a huge relief, finally seeing the man he had raised as if his own getting settled in a serene and relaxed home. 

“Alfred?”

The butler looked down at Damian and absentmindedly reached over to brush some cat hair away from his cardigan “Yes, master Damian?” 

“Can I help too?” 

Alfred couldn’t help smiling at that request and nodded towards the potatoes waiting to be peeled and diced “You can help me making potatoes salad or you can make sure your brother doesn’t put the kitchen on fire” he offered as an alternative, knowing that Damian preferred Richard above anyone else in the family. 

Damian opened his mouth to answer, only for his voice to be drowned out by a shout. 

“THAT’S NOT HOW YOU DISEMBOWEL A BODY!” J. strode to Jason and Timothy who, to be truthful, were butchering the turkey “Believe me, I have experience!” 

“J.!” 

With a toothy grin, the younger man turned towards Bruce “It’s the truth, though”

Hadn’t Alfred had some manners, he would have face-palmed right in the middle of the kitchen.

He loved his family, but he couldn’t wait for Thanksgiving to be over.


	5. Surprise

  


Whether Bruce had been bewitched by the criminal life in Gotham or by the sparkling glamour of his playboy life, it didn’t matter much to J: the result was always the same, in the end, and it contemplated a night spent alone to grit his teeth from jealousy and quietly simmering rage - both towards himself and towards his frightully absent partner.

Hadn’t he made himself so easily recognisable during his Joker days, he could have at least joined Bruce at whatever stupid party he needed to attend to and fend off all the ladies trying to steal his man. And, maybe, after some hard months of persuading, Bruce would have even allowed him to patrol together, trusting that a well-engineered costum would hide his identity from his ex… pals and colleagues. But, no matter how much he berated his dramatic ways, J knew that mulling over the past wouldn’t change it - no, it was Bruce who was supposed to be a little bit more.. considerate. And coming home _every_ single night in the wee hours of the morning wasn’t considerate - Not. At. All. J could be understanding - being in a steady and healthy relationship had made him rediscover the art of compromise - and he knew even better than Bruce himself that certain operations could be.. consuming. But Bruce had always taken care to keep him in the loop and tell J when a rough period was to be expected.

Now, he had just started disappearing without even a word.

“You’re making yourself sick, master J” Alfred interrupted a clearly unpleasant line of thought, gently putting a cup of tea on the coffee table before sitting next to the younger man “May I inquire about what’s bothering you?”

“Would it matter if I answered no?”

“No” Alfred admitted with a tone of voice that suggested a slight smirk, even if the expression of his face didn’t change.

J sighed heavily as he leaned over to take the cup of tea: one of the first things he had learned upon moving into the Manor, it was that one didn’t lightly refuse Alfred’s tea without a reason “Has Bruce fallen out of love with me?”

Alfred didn’t knew why the people in his care always tried to challenge him into losing his composure “Respectfully, I’ve never heard something more stupid come out of your mouth - and you’ve said many stupid things in your life, master J” he chastised the younger man.

J curled on himself a bit “Then why is he keeping me in the obscure about everything concening his life? I had to learn it from the newspapers, that yesterday night he got injured during a party I didn’t even know he was attending to - he used to tell me these things”

“I understand why you reached that conclusion” Alfred sighed too, wishing he had some tea for himself: he loved Bruce like a son but, really, the man didn’t know how to nurture a relationship. Of course, he knew why Bruce was acting like that - and the reason was rather sweet - but he had hoped that he’d more.. incospicuos “Do you trust me, master J?”

“Is that a trick question?” J joked weakly before adding “I trust you”

“Then wait. Please”

And J did as Alfred counselled him, trying to ignore the fact that he barely saw Bruce and giving up on waiting awake for his return at night - not that he slept much, he always was alert when Bruce slipped in bed; the other man, almost ritualistically, would caress his back and murmur an almost inaudible “good night” - a behaviour that confused J more than ever.

It wasn’t surprising that, on Christmas morning, he woke up cranky and with a killer migraine and not even the fact that Bruce had been at home the previous night had managed to cheer him up. Grumbling, J went to the kitchen and eyed warily the package on the table “Shouldn’t this be under the tree?”

“Master Bruce wanted you to have it upon your awakening” Alfred explained, setting a plate with a warm cinnamon bun in front of him “Merry Christmas”

“Merry Christmas to you, too” J mustered the energies to smile up at the butler who, as if reading his mind, presented him with some paracetamol “You’re too good for this world” he murmured, swallowing gratefully the tablet before tearing open the package: inside, there was the thickest and warmest sweater he had ever touched and a letter.

* * *

_Love,_

_Merry Christmas.  
_

_You could have told me that you’re cold at night, I would have raised the temperature on the thermostat. So, this is not actually your gift: it’s a necessity to keep myself from freezing when I sleep next to you._

_It’s also an apology - for not being at home long enough to notice that you were cold: I know such a detail wouldn’t have escaped me, if I had spent more time in your company this past month._

_I promise sneaking around to keep your Christmas gift a secret seemed smart… until Alfred teared me a new one._

_Well, if you can forgive me, your present is in the Cave._

_Much love, **Your** Bruce_

* * *

“Public school was wasted on him, if this is the apology letter he came up with” J retorted rather bitchly, even as something warm bloomed in his chest: Bruce had just tried to surprise him and, like the emotionally constipated dork that he was, had gone about it completely the wrong way and almost screwed them over “Well, let’s go to see this magnificent surprise” J declared, standing up with the cinnamon bun half-stuffed in his mouth.   


As he started walking down the stairs to the Cave, J could hear another familiar set of steps following him but he didn’t aknowledge Bruce: the least he could do, it was keeping him a bit on his toes.

J clicked the lights on -  


and promptly squaled: where there usually would be displayed the Batmobile in all its glory, there was a purple Lamborgini just like the one he had crashed during one of their last games - just like the one in which they had first kissed, twined together like vines and reshaped their relationship from nemesis to lovers.

The same stupid car in which J’s deepest desire had been satisfied.

“I rebuilt it from scratch” Bruce began tentatively, eyes focused on the way J’s back stood rigid under his pjs “Added some new features too.. they looked…cool?” still there was no other reaction than the initial squeal which didn’t exactly tell Bruce much: it might just have been an expression of surprise “So, do you like it?”

J really wanted to make Bruce suffer more - honest - but how could he punish such a wonderful man? “If I don’t get Christmas sex in my new car, I’ll be disappointed”

Bruce’s arms came to wrap around J’s waist, holding him close to his chest “You read my mind”  



	6. Snow Flakes

Bruce entered the library in search of some papers he should have read for that morning meeting and that he had discarded somewhere in the Manor - a shame he couldn’t remember exactly where and that he had already deleted the mail in which the same documents had been sent to him. So, he needed to find the damn papers.

Bruce moved comfortably in the dark, eyes scanning the various desks and armchairs in search of what he needed. That was when he noticed a figure huddled in front of a window “What are you doing here in the dark?” Bruce murmured, caressing an hunched shoulder. 

“Glaring at the snow” J. answered, his voice completely serious and leaning in the loving touch like Alfred the Cat did when looking for cuddles. 

Bruce snorted “Only you would do that” he murmured fondly, bending down to kiss platinum blond hair “Not fond of cold then?” 

J. turned his head to rub their cheeks together, sighing at the feeling of Bruce’s freshly shaved skin and he inhaled the heady and expensive scent of his aftershave “Not particularly - I especially hate snow” 

“Why?”

“It’s cold and wet and it melts in your shoes” J. dramatically shivered “Just awful” 

Bruce let out a warm chuckle “Go to bundle up in the bed then” he suggested “Have you seen some papers with pretty coloured diagrams on them?”

“You stuffed them in the first drawer of your bedside table” J. promptly offered as he stood up and stretched “You got fed up with them after a second staring at the statistics and called it quits” 

Bruce snapped his fingers “Right. Thank you love” 

The library doors opened and Alfred peeked in “Good morning Master Bruce, Master J. - I heard voices and I thought to check: would you like some breakfast?”

“Thank you, Alfie: just tea for me, but my man here is going to eat something more substantial or I’ll kick him” J. grinned brightly, snatching Bruce’s hand in his own “Come on, let’s go”

Bruce followed, heaving a fond sigh. Sat at the kitchen table, yawning and looking rather murderous despite the early hour, there was Damian “Good morning” Bruce greeted, bending down to kiss his son’s unruly hair. 

A grumble was the only response he received. 

“Are you okay?” Bruce hadn’t heard Damian dealing with nightmares nor had he noticed him getting injured during patrol the night before. 

“Cold” Damian sniffled and curled up in the chair. 

“You too?” Bruce grinned and ruffled Damian’s hair. 

“Don’t tease him” J. teasingly scowled as he slid to sit close to Damian, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing him close against his side in an attempt at warming him up “You’re slipping school if you’re too cold to go, honey” he reassured, muffling Bruce’s disagreeing noise with a loud kiss to Damian’s temple, who was looking quite pleased. 

“Can I, Dad?” Damian inquired, looking up at Bruce with the sweetest expression he could muster, eyes seeming bigger and his mouth slightly pouty. 

Bruce hated when Damian did that - especially when it was paired with him saying ‘Dad’ “Fine, but let’s not make this an habit”

“Thank you!” Damian chirped, snuggling under J.’s arm, already envisioning how he could follow the other man in bed and get some more sleep in once his father went to work: the day started to look wonderful.


End file.
